Pokemon United: Journey in Johto
by Vicc125
Summary: Hailing from Blackthorn City, Jason has spent all of his life cooped up in Northern Johto. After growing frustrated with the elitist Dragon Tamer Clan, who treat him as an outsider despite his late mother being born into the clan, he sets out for New Bark Town. With his two best friends and his trusty Cyndaquil at his side, Jason embarks on a quest to prove his worth.
1. Chapter I

_To the honored Professor Samuel Oak,_

 _During your brief visit to the Dragon's Den, you made more than a few inquiries about the journey of a very particular trainer. The Elder, or as you know him, my cousin and former Champion Lance, forwarded your questions to me in an exquisitely (and by that, I mean annoyingly so) detailed letter. As much as I sympathize with your desire for answers, the truth of the matter is that I have neither the knowledge of, nor the permission to divulge, the meticulous details of this trainer's time in any of the regions he visited. I can, however, tell you he visited the provinces of Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh, Kalos, Unova, and Kanto in that order, and provide you with my own memories of the day he challenged the Blackthorn City Gym for the first time._

 _When he entered my gym, he was as unassuming as ever. His hair stuck up at odd angles, and his clothes were patched and dirty. There was no doubt; he was here to challenge me. At the time he had been no more than sixteen, as he had left the city only a few months after his fifteenth birthday. Even if I hadn't half-way grown up with him, I would have been able to tell that it was his first journey; his face clearly betrayed his worn nerves._

 _Why had he entered the Blackthorn City Gym? That was something I wanted to inquire. I didn't of course; I never needed to. Even without vocalization, the question itself still hung in the air: Why did think to walk through those glass doors; to assume he could challenge and defeat me?_

 _Now before you jump to conclusions, I hadn't been implying anything about the number of badges he had; six months on the road could net you seven of the Johto badges if you planned it right. No, the reason I asked was because I had a reputation for being unbeatable. In fact, until that day, I had never lost to a challenger, and I had been running the gym for four years._

 _In most regions, that would have meant that there were no trainers competing in the Pokemon League, as entering the Indigo Plateau Conference requires eight badges (this is, of course, excluding those who shell out the money to take and pass the Pokemon League Admissions Exam, and those who graduate from PokeTech in Kanto with Honors), and there were only eight gyms in the Johto province. But the Indigo League is a little different. It encompasses both Kanto and Johto, meaning there are sixteen gyms to challenge, twice the number of the other leagues, yet the League itself still only requires you to beat eight. It was a system that a few trainers took advantage of (read; "abused") by traveling between the two regions to get their share of badges, rather than travel all the way through one of them._

 _As a result, most Johto-centric trainers tended to skip the Blackthorn Gym entirely, opting to jump over to Vermillion City in Kanto for their final badge (the new leader over there had reputation of practically handing them out), and most Kanto-centric trainers never bothered coming this far North._

 _I know relaying this information to you is pointless, as you're already aware of the way the Indigo League runs itself, so please forgive my ramblings; I was halfway through describing the particulars before I remembered to whom this letter was addressed._

 _My point is that, on average, I battled five trainers a year. There had only been three the year prior, and this boy was to be the first (and only) challenger of this cycle._

 _For those few who did dare to challenge me, the rules were simple: I would field three Pokemon in a one-on-one match. If they, using all of their Pokemon on hand, could defeat me, I would award them with the Rising Badge. To this day, Jason Braun is the only person to ever receive one from me._

 _But that was near the end of his time journeying through Johto, and you wished to hear the tale from the beginning. Unfortunately, as I said, I know not the particulars of this journey. I wasn't there for any of it, our battle being the only thing of note involving me. If you want to hear the story, you'll have to hear it from him._

 _So consider yourself lucky, as Jason provided me with a series of audio logs detailing his journies through each of the provinces he visited, from the day he received Typhlosion (then a Cyndaquil, of course) to the conclusion of the United World Pokemon League._

 _Enjoy,_

 _Clair_ _Ryūō-Braun_

 _Champion of the Indigo Plateau_

* * *

 **Chapter I: Mistakes Were Made**

The rain pelting my tent was vicious and left something to be desired. That desire was sleep, but it seemed that Kyogre itself was determined to keep me up all night. Route 29 of Johto was known to be a bit wet at times, but had I known it was going to be this miserable, I would have stayed back in Blackthorn City. As cold as the mountains could be, the weather was at least predictable, and not invariably sporadic like the Southern Coast.

By the trills of the nocturnal Hoothoot, I could guess it was still late at night, or possibly, early morning. As I had been tossing and turning in my sleeping bag since after dinner, which felt like an eternity ago, my sense of time might have been a tad bit warped. Or, perhaps that was the time lag from traveling from one end of Johto to the other. Back home, the first peaks of sunlight would be raising over the mountain right about now, and the early dwellers (which was everyone who wasn't juvenile, at least, during my youth) would be starting their days with moomoo milk. Or so I assumed, as I said, my perception of the passage of time likely wasn't accurate.

The smacking of a small jaw diverted my attention from my sleepless dilemma. There was a small yip, akin to a yawn, and my eyes found themselves staring at the source of the sound. It- no, he, was a small shrew-like creature, with an elongated snout and perpetually shut eyes. His fur was a navy blue, that bled into a beige cream near the bottom half of his body. It looked harmless, standing only about a foot and a half high while on his back paws, which was smaller than average for his species, but I had learned very quickly that the four red spots on his wide back could ignite in an instant (there had been a rather nasty incident earlier that day where one of friends, who I'll introduce shortly, nearly had their hand charred to a crisp).

Cyndaquil (that was both his name and his species, I didn't really care for nicknames back then, and I still don't now) crawled forward from where he had been curled up next to me, only to lay his snout across my thigh, and attempt to continue sleeping. Bastard. Now I couldn't move or I'd risk waking him up, which, upon reflection, I figured was more than likely the point. There was little doubt that my constant shifting had been rousing him from his slumber periodically. I supposed being used as a pillow wasn't much of a punishment; after all, I knew of a few Dragon types that would have roasted me alive for such a heinous crime.

I had resigned myself to a sleepless night when I heard the cry; shrill and human, calling out in fear. Cyndaquil heard it as well, and in mere moments we had pushed our way outside of the fabric cover of the tent. We waited there for a second, scanning the grounds of our makeshift camp; three small tents hammered into the ground and a pile of ashes still warm from cooking our dinner. Then another cry for help, closer and louder now. It was then that I noticed that one of the other tents had its netted screen wide open, and was entirely unoccupied.

And so the shrew and I made for the thicket of trees we heard the voice yelling from. He was far faster than I, and I had to call for him to slow down and keep pace with me. While I was confident that the little fire-spitter could hold his own, the thought of watching him disappear into the shadows of the forest disturbed me nonetheless.

"Light up," I told him, if only as a precaution.

He quipped to affirm that he had heard me, and fire spouted from his back not a second later. Had I not been preoccupied with avoiding unearthed roots as we ran, I would have been impressed with how quickly he lit his flame. Cyndaquil were known to be timid; only lighting the flame on their backs when they were cornered. The fact that mine had lit his so quickly, as if he had anticipated the order and was simply waiting for me to speak the words, spoke of just how bold and brave he was. He knew there would be a fight, and he wasn't deterred in the slightest.

We broke through the thicket and into a wide clearing, marked only by a gnarled stump. From the other side of the treeline came a garbled cry, one that wasn't human but I knew nonetheless.

"Run Totodile! Run!"

And out from the trees came a bipedal crocodile, with a scaly blue hide and red spines, and behind him, a slightly overweight boy my age. He wore an old band tee, so old, in fact, that you could no longer read the logo on it, and blue jeans. His face lit up as he ran full sprint at me, almost trampling his Pokemon.

"Jason! Bro you gotta help us!"

Before I could inquire what the problem was, they broke through the brush.

A score of purple Rattata squeaked loudly as they came charging at us. They made it as far as the stump, before I yelled out for Cyndaquil to roast them.

His response was primal, letting loose a hail of pebble-sized Embers that scattered across their ranks, singing their fur and scarring the smaller individuals of the pack back into the forest. Despite their wounds, the remaining rats, about nine or ten altogether, kept advancing on us.

"Ben, some help would be nice! Cyndaquil, uh, keep it up!"

Ben called out for a Water Gun in an uneven voice, and Totodile complied happily. A spout of water left his powerful jaws, catching two of the Rattata in the chest and pushing them back. He didn't stop there, opting to continue spraying water out of his mouth like a firehose without needing to be told to do so. A second volley of Embers joined the attack, Cyndaquil being cautious enough to aim away from the wet Rattata and the crocodile's spray, and the third volley of fire finally convinced the pack of Rattata to flee in the direction they came in.

As they ran back into the forest, tails tucked in between their hind legs, I took a second to let out a pent up sigh. We had nearly been rat food, and I won't lie; I had been terrified. Another, smaller, sigh at my feet told me that Cyndaquil was just as relieved. I bent down to scratch the crown of his head, and thanked him for being on top of things.

"Arceus above, I owe you one Jason. Totodile and I were pretty sure we were screwed!"

The little croc chortled in agreement.

"More than one," I said, trying not to let my lingering fear creep into my voice, "what were you doing out here anyways? It's like two in the morning!"

"It's, uh, five actually, but that isn't important," he said sheepishly and as I crinkled my brow at him, I dimly registered Cyndaquil climbing up to perch on my shoulder, "I was hunting a Raticate, and stumbled upon its den, which I'm sure you can imagine it wasn't pleased with…"

He continued to trail on about how he accidentally stepped on one of the Rattata's tails, but I had tuned him out. Raticate were fiercely aggressive, and much bigger than Rattata, its prior evolution. They were den Pokemon, who were outrageously protective of their homes.

And Ben had accidentally approached, no, invaded, the lair of one.

My relief at avoiding death by rats vanished, to be replaced with overwhelming trepidation. Cyndaquil shivered on my shoulder, and I knew it wasn't because of the cool night air. We needed to leave, now, before the Raticate itself tracked us and our tired Pokemon down. We then needed to get back to our campsite, rouse Tyson and his Chikorita who were asleep in the third tent, and pack camp and make for Cherrygrove City as fast as we could.

If only it were that easy.

I had been halfway through relaying my thoughts to Ben when the object of our terror leapt off of a branch, and landed on the wooden stump. The Raticate in question was massive, even by normal standards, standing three feet tall. Its bulky body was covered in tangled fur, brown in color with a white belly. But most impressive were its four large teeth, two on top and two on bottom, that were white as bone and sharp as a knife. My blood ran cold as that simile passed through my mind.

Glancing over, I could tell that Ben was just as terrified as I was. His teeth were chattering, and his hands were clenched tight. He turned his head to look at me, desperately searching my face as though it, or I, would have a clue as to how we would get out of this. I offered a shrug and a shaky smile. I hadn't a clue as to how to avoid our fate. His face went blank with despair.

It was then that the towering rat let out an angry screech, challenging us to a battle. We had intruded upon its home (well, Ben had but it seemed I was to be judged guilty by association) and it was going to teach us a lesson for our audacity. The Raticate gnashed its teeth with a snarl, and waited for us to make a move.

Cyndaquil leapt off my shoulder, bruising me in the process with his powerful hind legs, and bristled on the ground as he dared to meet our aggressor's challenge. His back flared up, and he cried out, prepared to fight. Totodile, clearly inspired by my little shrew, waddled to Cyndaquil's side and let out a noise that could only be described as a low roar mixed with a growl.

For better or worse, the Johto starter duo had sealed our fates. I heard Ben gulp beside me. He had come to a similar conclusion. I looked back to him, eyes widened, looking for some sort of confirmation with the same desperation he had searched my face with only moments before. He could only nod slowly, eyes as wide as mine. Resigning myself to our fates, I looked back at the fat rat.

Raticate moved first, having grown impatient as it had waited for us to respond. He rounded on Cyndaquil, moving quicker than anything that big had any right to, and slammed into him. Cyndaquil rolled backwards, and as he righted himself, I realized that move had been Quick Attack. Getting around that kind of speed was going to be challenging, especially since our Pokemon were already tired from spamming special attacks against the Rattata pack. I'd have to think of something, and fast.

Ben took advantage of Raticate's focus on Cyndaquil, ordering Totodile to attack with Scratch. Despite his slower speed, the croc landed the blow, raking his claws along Raticate's fat cheek. After letting out a squeal, it responded by digging its sharp teeth into Totodile's scaled arm.

Cyndaquil, upon my orders, attempted to use Tackle, but the small shrew couldn't even make the much larger rat budge. It craned its neck to glare at him, dragging Totodile along, as it still hadn't released him. Totodile clearly did not care for this, evident by his frown as he blasted Raticate in the face with a geyser of water. The rat was forced to release the arm it was chomped down on, lest it wanted to drown.

Another screech emanated from its fat mouth, and the rat gnashed its teeth together. They started to glow with a white hue, and I struggled to recall the name of the attack. I stopped myself, chiding that the name didn't matter (I would later remember it was Hyper Fang). I knew the next attack had to be avoided. So I ordered Cyndaquil to do the only thing I could think of that would help in this situation; to let loose a Smokescreen.

The shrew opened his maw, and from within came loose a torrent of black smoke. It enveloped the Raticate in a haze, and continued to do so until the Pokemon was entirely blocked from view. Cyndaquil and Totodile both hopped backwards, putting distance between them and the mass of smoke that was now nearly five feet wide in diameter, and just as tall.

Needless to say, we didn't wait for Raticate to emerge. Cyndaquil unleashed Ember for the fourth time that morning, the small burning projectiles earning a painful squeal from inside the hazy smoke. Totodile immediately let loose another Water Gun, which cut through the smoke and knocked Raticate onto its back.

I called for one more Ember, before Ben shouted at us.

"Wait!"

Next thing I knew, there was a ball soaring through the air, white and red in color. It flew true, right through the hole in the now dispersing smoke made by Totodile, and the small button on the front of the Pokeball smacked into Raticate's side. The ball opened at its midsection, where a black ring had been painted around the circumference, to let you know where it would split apart, and a red light painted the rat.

A second later, Raticate was within a closed Pokeball on the ground, having been converted to pure energy. Ben and I waited for a tense few moments, as the ball shook. The Pokemon was fighting its capture. It was going to break out. I ordered Cyndaquil, who was panting slowly, to be ready to attack.

Then the ball went still.

I looked at Ben wordlessly. It was over. We had survived the wrath of Raticate, and Ben had made it his own. He wiped sweat out from under his curly mop of hair, and made a little fist pump into the air as he jumped with what was either glee at his new capture, or relief at his survival.

The sun finally rose over the trees, painting the sky with a pink hue (I recall thinking it was about damn time it came up). Ben collected his occupied Pokeball, and returned Totodile to another one with a "thank you." He placed one Pokeball into each front pocket of his jeans, and turned to look at me as I scratched Cyndaquil under his chin, having reclaimed his perch on my shoulder.

"I guess you're right. I do owe you more than one."

"Nah, we're best friends. Helping each other is what we do. Now let's go wake Tyson up so you can rub this in his face. Then we can start making our way to Cherrygrove."

With a fresh catch in the party, we started the short walk back to our campsite, certain that we could handle whatever the future held for us.


	2. Chapter II

**Chapter II: Unrealistic Goals**

(This next part isn't exactly the most important or exciting sliver of my travels through Johto, but I implore you to listen to it Professor, so that you might get a better understanding of who I was, and what my goals were in the beginning. Skip it, if you so choose, as I certainly will never know, but you wanted the whole story, and this is a piece of it.)

"The City of Fragrant Flowers," or more widely known as Cherrygrove City, was a neat little town tucked between the edge of Route 29's pine forest, and the Goldenrod Bay. The buildings were closely clumped together, and the brick streets that wove around them were more akin to a hiking trail than the asphalt roads of Goldenrod City itself. Flowers of a magnitude of colors bloomed from every apartment terrace, and even more could be see on the distant rolling hills of Route 30. And, if the sweet scented wind was anything to go by, the city was aptly named.

It was still early in the morning, no more than an hour or two past sunrise, and I was sat outside a boardwalk cafe near the Pokemon Center the three of us had bunked in the night before. My view was gorgeous; nothing but the deep blue water of the ocean cresting upon the sandbanks, and the gentle curve of the bay's white beaches are far as my eyes could see. I let out a contented sigh, watching as the condensation from my breath rose into the chilly air. Absentmindedly, I zipped up my red leather jacket.

A snout nudged my right arm, and I knew to lower my shoulder. Cyndaquil's tiny paws clambered up my bicep, and he plopped himself down on my shoulder, letting his body warm my ear. I reached into a small bag and pulled out a fat orange berry. My partner's snout immediately began to sniff the air, and I raised my hand to offer the Magost Berry to him. His front forelimbs grasped it, and he guided it to his mouth.

"Quite the view, isn't it Braun? You think there might be some Staryu in those waters?"

The voice that spoke wasn't mine (obviously). My head turned like a swivel, and Cyndaquil was lucky that I was looking left, else he might have found himself ousted from my shoulder by accident. Even so, his front arms buried themselves in my short brown hair. I assumed he had been steadying himself, but instead he used them to pull his elongated head on top of mine. He quipped a happy greeting to the newcomer.

The man in question was taller than me, (which was only natural as he was also a year older than me) with blonde hair and blue eyes. He wore a blue patterned flannel, with black skin tight jeans and combat boots. In one hand he held a half-eaten croissant, and in the other his blue Pokedex, which I assumed he was using to read up on all the Pokemon indigenous to the area. He waved the 'Dex hand in greeting, which I returned with a smirk, and he walked around the table Cyndaquil and I were at and plopped himself down in a spare chair.

"Tyson. You're up early," I said to him, handing another berry to the shrew draped over my head.

"Yeah, Chikorita and Pidgey are early risers, as it turns out."

I had failed to notice the two Pokemon trailing behind him. One was a quadrupedal little thing, with green tinted skin and a leaf on her head. She peeped at me, and I bent over to offer her a berry. Small whips like vines protruded from the green bulbs on her neck, and the took the berry between them, taking small bites out of it. She beamed up at me, clearly pleased with her new snack.

The second Pokemon was a small brown bird with black markings around his eyes. The Pidgey eyed me warily as he hopped on past, and turned his beak away with closed eyes. Apparently he didn't think much of me. He jumped up and fluttered his wings, landing on the table close to his trainer. I set a berry next to him, as a peace offering, but he either didn't notice or didn't care (to this day, he still barely regards me when I'm in his presence).

"You didn't answer my question," my attention was brought back to Tyson, who was staring out at the water, clearly oblivious to his Pidgey's prideful behavior, "think I could find a Staryu if we went down to the shore? If we maybe took a boat out to the center of the bay?"

We'd barely been in Cherrygrove for twelve hours, and Tyson was already raring to leave. Not that I was surprised, or even opposed to the idea, mind you. We were both taking on the League Challenge, but Cherrygrove didn't have a sanctioned Gym where we could earn a badge. Our hopes were to compete in the Indigo Plateau Conference, and after that, against the Elite Four and Champion Lance. In our minds, the sooner we were on the road, the better. Falkner, in Violet City to the North, was our first obstacle to overcome, and if we wanted the Zepher Badge, we needed to be out on the road where we could train and catch Pokemon to add to our team.

In that regard, both Ben and Tyson had a lead over me. With Ben's recent acquisition of Raticate (who refused to listen to him, but that was besides the point), and the Pidgey Tyson had caught right past the wooden fence that lined New Bark Town, I was the only trainer in the group who had yet to add any Pokemon to his team. I was confident that Cyndaquil could hold his own in a proper Gym battle, our match with the much older and experienced Raticate being my cited proof, but I knew he couldn't handle Falkner alone. No, I needed one, if not two, more Pokemon before I challenged the Violet City Gym.

"It's always possible," I said to my friend, "but do you really want to spend money on a rental, just for the small chance of finding a decent Water type? They don't just pop up and out of the water."

"Of course they don't. We would need to get some reels and fish 'em in," Tyson frowned, as if he knew I was going to continue arguing with him.

"A good rod and reel would cost a lot of money, and we haven't earned any yet. Much less enough to justify paying the cost for a trip out on the water. I walked the docks this morning; the fishermen are charging ludicrous prices to take passengers out on the water."

Cyndaquil made a noise in agreement, as if he had a comprehension of what money actually was. Maybe he did.

Tyson sighed in defeat, "I guess my dreams of owning a powerhouse Water type will have to wait a little longer to be realized."

"It's not as if a Water type Pokemon would give you an edge over Falkner anyways," I tried to console him a little, before chuckling and adding, "or do you think you're just gonna catch a Seal who knows Ice Beam without needing to be taught?"

We both guffawed at that, knowing how ridiculous such an idea was.

We sat there a while longer, staring out at the tide silently. As much as I itched to get back out on the road, especially now that Tyson mentioned the idea of catching Pokemon, I still found myself enjoying the brisk air of the calm morning. The chill almost reminded me of home, as morning in the mountains were often just as cold. Then I remembered that "home" came with the pressure of meeting the Dragon Tamer Clan's expectations, while also enduring their general disdain for me, and I banished such thoughts from my mind.

"You're thinking about Clair, aren't you?" Tyson's words made my head jolt towards him, and this time, Cyndaquil had to shift his body to my left shoulder to avoid being ejected, "don't bother denying it, you've got that usual brooding frown on your face."

"Not Clair specifically," I said, gritting my teeth as the name passed by my lips, "but, yeah, I am dwelling on the Dragon Tamer Clan."

"You ought to let it go, we're hundreds of miles from home," Tyson eyed me cautiously, as if expecting me to erupt at the sheer mention of the topic (admittedly, there had been a time when I would have done such a thing).

"How can I?" I asked with a hefty sigh, "Ever since my mom died, they've treated me like some sort of pariah! Like it's somehow my fault that my father wasn't born into the clan like mom was. I didn't ask to be a "half-breed!" I didn't want to-"

I stopped myself. I was about to say that I never wanted to be part of the Dragon Tamer Clan, but Tyson would surely have known it was a lie. I sucked in a breath.

"I'm just tired of being beaten down. They want all of us Clan children to be powerful trainers, like Lance, but they were extra hard on me. I had to work twice as hard just to get half the recognition, if I even got any! Mostly it was just insults and jibes, informing me of just how poor a trainer I was. It's why my dad moved us to the other side of the city. Why he tried to get us away from all of that."

"I just," he paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, "I just don't see why you bother. If they didn't treat you right before, what makes you think that competing in the League will make things any better?"

I didn't answer him immediately. I didn't know how to. What could I say to convince him, to convince me, that things would be different? I knew that my prowess as a trainer had nothing to do with the way I was treated; that no amount of progress would have pleased them. Their disdain was with me, and my father, whom my mother decided to marry despite the Elder choosing a Clan trainer as her intended groom. It was the circumstances of my birth that lead them to alienate me, and no amount of fame or power would change that.

Then a brief memory flashed through my head, of a girl with blue hair, three and a half years my senior, telling me that strength was all that mattered. That if I had none, I was nothing. And then the words poured out of my mouth.

"It's not about the League," I said, voice barely above a whisper, "I could make it to the finals and they wouldn't give a damn. But, if I beat their prized trainer, then they would be humbled; they would know that their bloodlines and traditions are nothing more than Ursaring crap!"

Without knowing it, I had allowed my voice to rise to a yell, and the three Pokemon at our table were staring at me warily. Chikorita backed away, a little frightened, but Pidgey really just looked annoyed with me. Cyndaquil quivered and nuzzled against my face, in what I assume was meant to be some sort of attempt to comfort me. I scratched him, looking away from Tyson.

"Lance? Do you really intend to dethrone Lance, just to spite those assholes?"

I let out a snort. I may have felt slighted by the Dragon Tamer Clan, but I wasn't about to throw the political stage of the Indigo Plateau into turmoil just to get some payback.

"Not Lance, I'm not that naive, and the one time he came to the Dragon's Den he was actually nice to me. No, I'm taking down-"

"Clair," Tyson deadpanned, "right, of course, I should have known it was her. You've had it out for her since she took over Lance's Gym. Your know she's only lost to Lance himself, right? That she can even battle the Elite Four on their terms and still win?"

Of course I knew, and that was half the point. Growing up in the Clan, you were taught to idolize Lance, and emulate Clair. She was the golden child, the up-and-coming Dragon Master. Clair was better than the rest of us, and we all knew it. Even she did. But before Lance became Champion, she didn't care. As far as she was concerned, we were all equals, even me, the wayward outsider. I remembered her as compassionate, and always smiling. Clair could have you twisted around her finger with her kind words, and you wouldn't realize it (even some of the adults were caught in her charismatic web).

Then, when she was fifteen, Lance ascended to Champion, and she was left to run the Blackthorn City Gym. That's when she changed; when she became cold and stoic. No longer did she have a use for friendship, or even those followers she had accidentally wrapped around her finger. Clair became haughty, and she lorded her status as "Dragon Master of the Blackthorn Gym" over everyone. Suddenly, she wasn't just the best, she also knew it and acted like it. If you weren't a talented trainer, she belittled you. I had experienced it more than once, being on the receiving end when she would teach lessons in the Dragon's Den, and I had even watched from the sidelines, as she picked apart those who dared challenge her Gym.

I hated her. I hated her more than words could express. But the Clan loved her, and that's why I had to be the one to beat her; to thrash her team outright in a Gym battle. I'd never get the recognition I deserved, or the retribution I wanted, otherwise.

"I don't care," I said, struggling to keep my voice low, "I'm going to break her winning streak. I'll be the first challenger to beat her, you mark my words!"

I let out the rest of my breath. It helped soothe my anger, if only a little. I pulled another berry out of the bag in my lap, and plopped it into my mouth.

"Are you sure this isn't some sort of, like, thinly veiled declaration of love?"

I choked in surprise. Spittle flew from my mouth, and I pounded my chest in an attempt to restore my respiratory functions to normal. Cyndaquil decided to help, and gave me a few good kicks to my back as well.

Once I was able to draw in air once more, I turned to Tyson, who was grinning like he'd just won the lottery.

"What?" I asked incredulously.

"What do you mean 'what?' I'm asking you! Is all of this grandstanding the result of some unspoken love for Clair Ryūō? Is this revenge for, I don't know, maybe her rejecting you when you were younger? I mean, I may not have grown up with her, but I've seen her before. She's definitely attractive, with a capital 'A.'"

His grin got even wider, and I didn't even think that was possible.

"First off, she never rejected me, because I never even thought to, uh, bring anything like that up when we were kids."

"Okay, but, do you think she's cute?"

"Second of all," I said, face heating up, "whether I'm attracted to her or not, it doesn't change the fact that she's a haughty, prissy, and demeaning person. How could anyone love someone like that?"

I wasn't going to lie to myself, of course Clair was attractive (I did marry her, after all. But do me a solid Professor, and don't mention this part to her. She's got a big enough head as it is). However, Tyson didn't need to know that, and I would choose to drown over admitting I had a childhood crush on the one person I despised most. (I especially don't want this part being relayed back to her. These words are meant for you alone, Oak.)

"Alright, alright," Tyson clearly wasn't convinced, "if you say so."

He left it at that, and I found myself silently sighing in relief.

"A different question then; what kind of team are you gonna put together? You haven't caught anything yet, so I assume you're waiting to run into some specific species."

Now that was something I was happy to talk about. Strategy and Pokemon were my main interests, and they were shared in the same intensity by Tyson. Glad to be off of the previous topic, I pondered the question for a moment. I hadn't exactly built a dream team in my head, not really. I knew that I wanted a Dragon type, and definitely a Flying type of my own, but I never put much thought into specific Pokemon. I relayed this much to Tyson.

"So, you're telling me, that you've got it in your head that you can beat Clair herself, but you haven't even thought of how you're gonna do it?"

Well, when he put it like that….

"I know how to train Pokemon. That's the one good thing the Clan beat into my head. It doesn't matter what kind of Pokemon I catch; I'll turn them into a team of strong battlers."

"Well, I guess 'a Dragon type and a probably a Flying type' is a better starting point than having no idea at all."

"I knew you'd see things my way," a smirk graced my face.

Taking a look at the watch on his wrist, Tyson stood up from his chair.

"Alright, as much as I enjoy a good conversation, we can finish this chat on the road. Let's go rouse Ben and kick his butt into gear. I wanna hit the Violet City Gym as soon as possible!"

I stood from my own seat, just as excited as he was to get back on the trail. I tucked the berry bag under one arm, and tucked my chair under the table.

"You ready?" I asked Cyndaquil, craning my neck so I could get a proper look at him on my shoulder.

I didn't need to ask. He was always ready.


End file.
